


Mor Gwilwileth

by Leestek



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Butterflies, Butterfly, Darkness, Elves, Eru is out of character, Evil, Gen, Gwilwileth, Nature, Sorry no Thranduil this time, Surreal Middle Earth, Surrealism, Trees, arda, firstborn, forest, legend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 12:29:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leestek/pseuds/Leestek
Summary: Just a bit of my love for butterflies.





	Mor Gwilwileth

There are different types of butterflies. They’re either colourful or dark, beautiful like Ulysses or funny like 88 butterfly, which owes its name to a peculiar wing pattern forming the figure of the number 88. There are mysteriously looking ones, like Blue Morpho and extraordinary ones, like Dead Leaves butterfly, whose beige wings can be taken for a dry leaf at first glance. There are many, many various types of butterflies and they’re all beautiful and special, but they are also fragile and happen to be skittish, but if you are patient and stay still for a while, you may be lucky enough to attract one of those unusual creatures to hover and take a short rest on the palm of your hand. Have you ever wondered why a butterfly would choose you to sit on and not a person standing next to you? Is it your scent? Your good energy? What is it?  
When I was little, I used to spend summer holidays at my grandma’s who had a small cottage in the countryside. There were not many kids at my age in the neighbourhood, so I had to figure out nice and potentially life threatening activities on my own to keep myself busy for most of the day. I was quite successful, especially where getting myself into trouble was concerned, but there was one more thing I did almost every single day, that was neither interesting, nor exciting. It would be standing in one place for about fifteen minutes, and - trust me - it was not easy for a vivacious kid as myself, but I was determined. And it would always pay off, as every time, after these more or less fifteen minutes, a huge Red Admiral would hover over me and I remember this tingling in my stomach (or maybe “butterflies” would be a better word) as I was waiting for it to sit on the palm of my hand. I suppose I could say this butterfly was my only friend in the neighbourhood.  
Another time, and I was already a grown up person, it happened to me, while I was walking down the street that a butterfly landed on my arm without me even knowing. I remember it was a very hot, sunny day and I was on my cell phone, talking to my mum. I can’t remember what we were talking about, probably nothing important, some usual stuff, like calling to ask how her day was. I must have felt a feather-like touch, because I looked down at my upper arm at one point and stopped talking, stopped walking, maybe even stopped breathing for a short while. On my upper arm, right where I have my butterfly tattoo, sat a small Brimstone butterfly, it’s light-yellow wings contrasting beautifully with the black ink under my skin. I only managed to say “hold on, I need to take a pic”. When I looked again, the butterfly was gone. And then it struck me. What if not all butterflies are good?

Mor Gwilwileth, the legend of the Black Butterfly 

Soon after the Firstborn had awoken on Arda, it became clear that Morgoth would do his utmost best to capture and slave as many of them as possible, his only aim being to torture their bodies and souls until they would become nothing but dark, wretched, utterly foul creatures as himself, all hope and light forever taken away from their hearts, and they would be left bloodthirsty, seeking revenge, but too week to turn their wrath against the one who had inflicted their misery on them. To escape the dark dungeons was almost impossible and those who managed to do this would have not been the same. Blackness filled their hearts as evil voices whispered foul things into their ears, encouraging them to do wicked acts. Many tried to fight their demons, but as they did, they would soon turn the darkness within them against themselves, because such is the nature of evil – it must destroy, feeding itself on misery and suffering of others and in this way reinforce the impermeable wall of blackness it is surrounded by.  
There was one, and his name was Ialdir, who couldn’t take it any more and so one day he left to never come back. He lived alone in the forest among the tall oak trees and soon he learnt their speech, and although he was a little scared at first, he soon found out that the wisdom and energy of the trees held the power to at least partially undo foul deeds that had been inflicted on him while trapped in the dark dungeons. He felt more like his old self, he even contemplated going back to live again with his kin whom he dearly missed, as the darkness that was gradually withdrawing from his heart unveiled what once used to be good and bright in him. But, at the same time, strange and alarming things started to happen in the area. Elves and people would get crushed under falling tree branches, rivers would run with poisoned waters and birds would break their necks as they fell from the highest of the trees onto the ground. Darkness had passed from Ialdir to the trees and now it was making them act against nature and destroy lives. Ialdir sought Ents to report to them in distress, weeping and lamenting as he did so, as it became clear to him that it was a sneaky way of the darkness within him to come out and do even greater evil to the world. Ents promised Ialdir they would try to reason with the trees and seek a reasonable solution to the problem that seemed indeed great, even to them, despite what they had already heard and witnessed over the ages. The promise made by Ents made Ialdir calm down a little and he went to a clearing to gather his thoughts. As he was sitting on a fallen tree trunk, a colourful butterfly suddenly flew over to him. Ialdir didn’t know that it was Eru himself in this beautiful form of a butterfly and so he extended his arm for the butterfly to sit on it. As Ialdir was admiring the ethereal form, he felt the urge to speak to it softly, as it was such a pretty creature and he wanted to greet it. As soon as the words passed his lips, the butterfly started to change. It grew in size, its wings darkened until they almost turned black and finally the butterfly spoke in a low, fearful voice of Eru himself:  
\- You speak the language of Firstborn, but what I hear is Black Speech. You strain to disguise the darkness with the light, but I say to you that you shall fail. Come black foe, uncover your true form.  
And with that, Ialdir’s body changed into that of a huge, black butterfly and Eru said:  
\- Now, great evil has been caused by foul words coming out of your mouth and therefore it shall be silenced forever.  
And in that moment, Ialdar’s lips were sawn together and he disappeared in a black cloud of toxic fumes never to be seen again.

Now, let me ask you again: have you ever wondered why a butterfly would choose you to sit on and not a person standing next to you? Is it your scent? Your good energy? What is it?


End file.
